


Up in Flames

by zebraljb



Category: NSYNC
Genre: Break Up, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zebraljb/pseuds/zebraljb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin's house catches fire, but his relationship with Lance goes up in flames.</p>
<p>Written in response to a request at the livejournal community fic_request, where someone asked for a Lambs breakup fic with angst, sadness, and heartache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up in Flames

UP IN FLAMES

 

Justin isn’t quite sure what awakens him, but later on, he’ll figure it was the smoke. Right now, all he knows is that he’s pulled from a dreamless sleep by a random coughing fit. As he gasps for breath, he realizes that the room is full of smoke. He can’t even see the Hello Kitty nightlight that Briahna sent him for Christmas two years prior.

Justin pulls himself out of bed, tucking his face into the neck of his worn tee. His bedroom door is open, and that seems to be the source of the smoke. He hurries over, pushing the bedroom door closed. He tries not to think about the orange lick of flames he saw out in the hallway. He slips his feet into a battered pair of sandals he uses around the house, grabs his cell from the nightstand, and goes to the door to the balcony. Thanking whatever forces urged him to have the balcony run the length of the house when he built it, he orders himself to stay calm as he goes out onto the balcony. It’s pitch black outside, but it doesn’t look like the flames have reached the balcony. He runs the distance from one corner of the house to the other, peeking in windows. He’s at the complete other end of the house before he sees a room without flames: the upstairs TV room. He goes through the sliding door, cautiously checking doorways as he makes his way down the back stairs. Before exiting the house, he remembers something at the last minute. He makes a mad dash to the kitchen, grabs the birdcage from its hook, and gets outside.

“Shh…it’s okay, girl,” he whispers as he hears an excited twittering from under the blanket. The bird, named Sarah Brightman after the first Christine in “Phantom of the Opera”, was a gift from JC for when Justin was feeling particularly down and uninspired. Justin refused to call her by her full name, and instead called her SarahBright. “It’s okay, SarahBright. I have you. You’re safe.” Justin moves them both to a respectable distance from the house, and starts making calls.

He calls the fire department first, and then his mother, knowing full well she’ll probably hear it on the news, and he wants her to hear it from him first. He leaves her a voicemail, as it’s about three in the morning back east. He then calls Lance, pacing through the dewy grass as the phone rings four times and goes to voicemail. “Lance, it’s important. Call me, baby, please.” He doesn’t want to scare Lance, so he doesn’t leave a detailed message. He calls back, knowing Lance sleeps like the dead. This time the phone goes directly to voicemail, which means Lance has turned the phone off, or ignored the call. “I mean it, Lance. I need you.” Justin tries to reach Lance one last time, texting the numbers “911” exactly eleven times.

Justin doesn’t bother with Joey or Chris; Joey is back in New York and would only worry, and Chris is somewhere in the wilds of Oregon for some reason Justin isn’t quite sure of. Justin then calls JC.

 

Justin’s in the front yard when JC arrives, standing with a fireman and holding the birdcage. “Jesus!” JC gasps, running through the grass. “Are you all right, Justin?”

“I’m fine, JC. Thanks.” Justin finally puts the birdcage on the ground and hugs JC. “I saved Sarah Brightman,” he feels the need to point out. He’s a responsible pet owner, even if he’s somehow allowed his house to burn down.

“Good for you,” JC says, rubbing Justin’s back. “Is Lance here?”

“No. He had some meetings that were going to run late, so he stayed home tonight…thank God.” Justin rubs his face and coughs a little.

“Mr. Timberlake, you’re going to want to go to the hospital,” the handsome fireman suggests. “You’ve probably inhaled a lot of smoke, and you should just get checked out.”

“I’ll be fine,” Justin says absently, looking down at his sooty arms and clothes. “I promise to call the doctor.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” JC adds, squeezing Justin.

JC’s arm is warm and comforting, and Justin leans his head against JC’s curls as he watches the streams of water hit his beloved home. There were fire extinguishers in at least three rooms, but by the time he’d woken up, it would have been too late to use them.

JC finally convinces Justin to sit down, and they sit close together for an hour before someone comes over to talk to Justin. “This looks electrical,” the fireman says, a young man who looks a lot like a young Chris, in Justin’s shell-shocked opinion. “Nothing you did wrong, Mr. Timberlake…just one of those fluke things.”

“One of those fluke things,” Justin echoes.

“If there’s any sort of good news here, beside the fact that you got out safely, it’s that the fire seems to have contained itself to the northern end of the home. Everything south of the front door has smoke damage, but I don’t believe you’ve lost much in the way of burning.”

“Which is the south end?” JC asks.

“The garage,” Justin says dully. “My office. The music room.”

“Well, that’s something,” JC says brightly. “Your cars.”

“Right.” Justin stands up and shakes the fireman’s hand. “Thank you. Thank you to everyone.”

“Just doing our job, sir,” the fireman says, then walks away to help pack up. 

Justin watches the man walk away, thinking about what he considers his own job and comparing it to what these men and women have just done for him. “Well,” Justin says with a sigh. “Guess I should start going through things." 

“Justin, it’s three in the morning,” JC points out. “You can’t even see, and they’re not letting you back in until the fire is completely out.”

“Oh, right,” Justin whispers. “JC! It’s so late…I wakened you! I’m so sorry!”

“No, you didn’t,” JC admitted. “I was up. And for Christ’s sake, Justin, you call me any time for something like this!”

“Right. Sorry. I…” Justin is interrupted by the squeal of tires a few houses down. In the flickering lights of the fire trucks, he sees Lance tearing up the driveway at full speed.

“Justin!” Lance barrels into him, almost knocking him down. “My God! I’m so sorry. I…I came as soon as I got your messages. Are you all right?” Lance kisses him on the mouth, right there in front of everyone, his hands running over Justin as if to make sure he was all in one piece.

“Lance,” Justin sighs, welcoming the embrace. Over the stench of fire and smoke and his own sweat, he smells something foreign…a sickeningly sweet smell that burns him more than any flame ever could. It’s not his cologne, and it’s not Lance’s cologne. He knows now why Lance hadn’t answered the phone. And it’s not just cologne, but the smell of someone else. Someone else’s kisses on Lance’s skin. Justin pulls back. “I’m fine.”

“Thank God,” Lance says in relief. He looks at Justin, touching his cheek. Justin pulls away. “So, what happened?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Justin snapped. “I was sleeping. It was electrical.”

“I didn’t say you DID do anything,” Lance says in surprise. “Is there anything else you have to do here? We’ll get you home, you can have a shower and go back to bed.”

“This is my home,” Justin replies.

“I meant my house,” Lance said. He rubs Justin’s shoulder, and Justin flinches. 

“I’m staying with JC,” Justin says, trying to keep the pain and hurt and nausea from erupting. He meets JC’s surprised gaze, begging with his eyes. He hopes the telepathy he’d always had with JC still works. 

“Why?” Lance gasps. “Justin, you shouldn’t be…I want you with me.”

“JC offered, and I’m going to stay with him. For tonight at least,” Justin says, and his tone dares Lance to argue for one more second. “Sarah Brightman likes JC, and you hate her.”

“She’s a bird, Justin. I don’t hate her,” Lance says with a nervous laugh.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Justin says, picking up the cage and heading for JC’s car. “Good night, Lance.”

“He’s in shock, I think,” JC says by way of explanation. “I’m sure he’ll be better tomorrow.”

 

But things AREN’T better tomorrow. JC had driven a very quiet Justin to his condo, and helped him get cleaned up and into the small guest room. But Justin couldn’t sleep, and had found himself drinking hot tea on JC’s living room sofa, crying silent tears as he mindlessly flipped channels.

“How long have you been up?” JC asks in surprise as he comes downstairs around ten-thirty. 

“Since you put me to bed,” Justin says, turning off the television. “I drank most of your tea.”

“Mi tea es su tea,” JC says with a grin. He shoves Justin’s long legs aside so he can sit on the sofa with him. “Hungry?”

“Food sounds disgusting,” Justin says, and it’s true.

“I’m not THAT bad of a cook,” JC says, slightly insulted.

Justin smiles, feeling like he’s forgotten how. “ANY food, JC, not just yours, dude.”

“Oh,” JC says. “I know this sounds ridiculous, but you have so much to be thankful for. You and Sarah Brightman made it out alive, and…”

“And my boyfriend was too busy fucking someone else to come when I needed him,” Justin interrupts bitterly. He gets up and goes into the kitchen, where Sarah Brightman is situated on a small table. He uncovers her cage, giving her food and water.

JC comes running after him. “What?”

“When I hugged him, I smelled someone else’s cologne on him. Through the smoke, I smelled cologne and sex on him.” Justin begins to shake. “My fucking house was burning down, and he was cheating on me. When I needed him most…he was betraying me.”

“Justin, are you…”

“I swear to fucking God, JC, you ask me if I’m sure and I will break your fingers,” Justin says savagely.

“Oh, honey,” JC says, drawing Justin close and saying nothing more.

 

“These were at my house,” Lance says as soon as he enters JC’s front door. He hands Justin a bag. “Three pair of sneakers, some underwear and socks, jeans, sweats, shirts. I thought you might need them.”

“How thoughtful. Thank you,” Justin says, taking the bag and putting it down.

“Where’s Jayce?” Lance asks.

“He had to run an errand,” Justin lies. JC has politely made himself scarce from his own house so Justin can use it to break up with the man he’s loved since he was eighteen. “Let’s go to the kitchen.” He won’t get physical, but he likes the ideas of a knife being within close range if he feels the need to cut Lance’s balls off.

“Did you call the insurance company?” Lance asks, sitting down at JC’s table. Justin notices that Lance completely ignores the bird, as usual. If it would have been a dog, Lance would have been all baby talk and ear-scratching attention.

“Not yet. I have a list of things to do today, but I wanted to see you first.” Justin sits down next to him.

Lance smiles and takes Justin’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He kisses Justin’s palm.

“Are you? Because I’m sure it would have been a lot fucking easier for you if I’d have died in that fire.”

“What? Justin!” Lance gasps.

“Though, in a way, it made it easier for ME, because now if there was anything in the bedroom that was yours, it’s probably ash by now,” Justin says pleasantly. “Saves me having to burn it myself.”

“Justin, what are you talking about?”

“Who was he, Lance?”

“Who?”

“The piece of ass you got last night. The fuck that was so damn good you ignored my calls.”

“Justin, I…”

“I’m not an idiot, Lance. Well, maybe I am, because I get the feeling this wasn’t the first time. I smelled him all over you last night. His cologne, and the smell of sex. The smell of fucking was stronger than the smell of the smoke, Lance.” Justin’s proud of the way he’s able to control his voice when all he really wants to do is cry.

“I…” Lance has the courtesy to no longer deny it. He simply goes silent.

“No excuses? No reasons?”

“I really did have a meeting…we went out after dinner…I met him at the bar…I didn’t plan it,” Lance insists.

“Which makes it okay,” Justin says, rolling his eyes. 

“I drank, he was there, before I knew it we were…”

“Don’t blame it on drinking, Lance,” Justin interrupts. “I want to know WHY. What didn’t I give you?”

“Nothing!” Lance protests. “It’s not you! I just…I missed going out, going on the prowl, if you will. It was fun, and it didn’t mean anything, and then suddenly we were back at his place, and…”

“So, this is because being in a relationship with me was BORING?”

“No,” Lance almost sobs. “I just…I can’t…”

“You’re right. You can’t. There is no explanation that will make this right, Lance.” Justin gets up and begins to pace. “You know, there are a lot of people who might think you’re damn lucky to have me as your boyfriend.”

“They’d be right,” Lance says softly, and Justin glares at him. 

“I know I can’t be as “out” as you are. I can’t be out there prancing around as the poster boy for the New Gay Superstar. Not yet.”

“I’ve never asked you to do that,” Lance reminds him. “I’ve never said one word to you about coming out.”

“No, you haven’t. And that’s the problem.” Justin slaps the table and Lance jumps. “You’ve never said a word. About ANYTHING. Is it such a big deal that we can’t go out to a club and dance like we’re fucking?” Lance mutely shakes his head, and Justin is suddenly reminded of the Lance from Long Ago, the Lance who would gamely go along with the others without a word, the one who was afraid to assert himself. “Is it the chase? Do you miss it that much? Do you miss waltzing into a club like you fucking OWN it, wearing those sinful leather pants, letting those beautiful eyes draw someone in until they’re putty in your hands?”

“I don’t…I can’t…I’m sorry,” Lance says finally.

“Me, too,” Justin says. He sits back down and buries his face in his hands for a moment. When he looks up again, his eyes are full of tears. “My house almost burned down. I could have been killed. I tried to call you…I NEEDED you. I could have lost everything, and the ONE person I needed most wasn’t there for me.”

“I’m sorry,” Lance whispers. “I thought about that all night. I was so grateful you weren’t hurt, because if you had been…”

“Well, you’re gonna have a lot of free time to think about that. Time you used to spend with me.” Justin finally gives Lance a good long look. Lance looks pale and exhausted and perhaps more beautiful than Justin’s ever seen him. 

“You can’t give me another chance?” Lance asks timidly. “I can prove to you that…”

“All you can prove to me right now is that you’ve learned how to grovel,” Justin interrupts. “I think you’d better go. JC will be home soon, and I don’t think he needs to be involved in all this.”

“Oh, so now you and JC are…” Lance waves his hand and raises a perfect eyebrow, trying to grab hold of something to support his side. He fails.

“DON’T finish that sentence,” Justin growls. “You know that’s NOT how it is at all. But isn’t it something how JC was able to answer my call? HE came running. You were too busy taking it up the ass from a stranger.” Justin gets up and goes to the sink, staring out through JC’s pretty yellow curtains. “Please leave, Lance.”

“I love you, Justin,” Lance says finally. “I just want to say that.”

Justin snorts but doesn’t reply. He doesn’t move, and he hears the creak of Lance’s chair as he gets up and leaves. Justin dips his head and stares down the drain into JC’s garbage disposal as the front door closes.

 

He’s still standing there when JC returns a half-hour later. “Justin?” JC walks over but doesn’t touch him.

“He’s gone,” Justin says, and it’s only then that he allows the sobs to overtake him. JC pulls him in his arms, leaning against the counter to support them both.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” JC whispers against Justin’s hair. Justin simply fists his hands in JC’s shirt, as he used to do when he was fourteen and JC was the only steady port in Justin’s tumultuous storm. JC allows Justin to cry himself out, then gently kisses Justin’s forehead. “Okay?”

Justin nods and takes a deep breath. “This doesn’t mean anything. For you and Lance, I mean. I don’t expect you to, like, choose sides or anything.”

JC gives him a wry smile. “If I got rid of my friends every time they cheated on someone I cared about, I’d have very few friends. Hell, I would’ve stopped talking to Joey in, oh, nineteen ninety-nine.”

Justin smiles, a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless. “True.” He reaches around JC and grabs a tissue from the box on the counter. “Okay.” He takes another deep breath. “I need to call my mom, and the insurance company…”

“And the doctor,” JC reminds him. Justin groans and rolls his eyes. “You promised that nice fireman.” 

“He was nice,” Justin agrees. “And cute.”

JC laughs. “You’re not dead after all.”

“Nope.” Justin wipes at his eyes. He walks over and sticks a finger between the wires of the birdcage, and Sarah Brightman nips at it as she twitters. “Ready to rise from the ashes.”

 

THE END


End file.
